


Healing Time's Wounds

by royal_blue43



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Super, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Drama, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Family Feels, Feels, Friendship, History of Trunks Saga, Loss, Love, Marriage, Motherhood, One Shot, Vegebul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26688079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royal_blue43/pseuds/royal_blue43
Summary: Bulma and her namesake from the future are in each other's company discussing the ups and downs of their lives, as well as their greatest loves.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, VegeBul - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	Healing Time's Wounds

Bulma speedily poured the Sauvignon Blanc into her visitor's glass before any protest could be made. The golden beverage smelled like early summer, which it was, before the humidity wafting from other parts of the region reached her vacation estate in the country. The women both kicked their shoes off, preparing for a fairly relaxing afternoon and evening. They hoped it would stay that way. 

"That wine glass is enormous, Bulma. You mean he lets you drink like this?"  
  
Bulma snickered. " _Lets me_? Don't tell me you've forgotten all of your youth. That was never his call, at least from the beginning. Of course I calmed down after I had Trunks -- and after Vegeta and I married. In any case, this is a special occasion, so bottoms up! It's the only glass you can have anyway."  
  
Her lavender-haired counterpart's chin rose, showing a bit of pride as she admired the woman's vivacity. This younger version of herself was a firecracker, but Bulma's vulnerability still showed too. Deferring to her hostess, she asked everyone to call her "Bea" instead, which they obliged.  
  
"Approaching midlife isn't easy, Bulma. I suppose you don't need my advice, really, but just be careful with the drinking _on your end_. It can get away from you sometimes -- you know, like, feel really good before it decides to play nasty tricks with your spirit and willpower."  
  
"Yeah, I know," Bulma sighed. "I'm not offended by your advice either. If there's anyone I should listen to, I guess it should be…me."  
  
They shared a thoughtful pause before breaking into laughter. Some women would have been highly uncomfortable meeting each other at opposite ends of their lives, coming from separate realities and parallel universes, but these were no ordinary women. They were both brilliant and their lives were rich, though Bea had lived through the type of hell that brimmed with relentless and devastating losses. Yet she was exceedingly determined not to have anyone feel sorry for her. A little gray hair and a few unattended wrinkles didn't mean much to them -- or her. Her healthiness, on the other hand, did.   
  
She had a "new" family, after all, who welcomed her with loving and open arms. Well, one member of the Briefs' clan kept his arms crossed a lot more these days, but Bea knew Bulma's reserved Saiyan mate also wished her the best. She only had been there for three weeks after her son finally persuaded her to meet the people who helped him twice in their lifetimes, just as he helped them. Trunks was the sun and moon for Bea, and it touched Bulma deeply to see the full extent of the woman's gentle appreciation every time he appeared. The man lovingly tended to his mother as well, of course.  
  
Bulma's teenage son, who had taken to calling himself "K.T.," as in "Kid Trunks," catered to both women like a champion. One night she arrived home to find Bea and the teen playing table shuffleboard. She chuckled thinking about the sport's leisurely pace. It must have been her namesake's idea to challenge her high-energy youngster to engage -- and the lady undoubtedly had fantastic persuasion skills. By the end of the game, both Kid Trunks and Bea were all hugs and smiles -- and not surprisingly, Bea had won.   
  
"I…hope I didn't drive him away, Bulma -- that my being here isn't too much for him. I can only imagine what it might be like seeing a less-than-bubbly version of one's current partner."  
  
Bulma lowered her glass, shaking her head. "No. Not at all. We agreed that it might be good for him to disappear for a spell. I had to drag the discussion out of Vegeta, but he's concerned that his presence is hard on you, especially as you work on getting healthy again. You need your strength and focus."  
  
"And I wished you both would have asked me first," Bea said, feeling irritable and hurt. "It's your home. He should not have to leave it, and I'm not falling apart at the seams here. If I could survive the cyborgs in addition to _every other horror_ I grew up with, then I can handle seeing the man I love ---"  
  
Embarrassed by her gaffe, Bea gulped and shut her eyes. _Not love!_ This wasn't her Vegeta. The last thing she wanted was to make Bulma feel uncomfortable with her. Feeling tears welling, she set hurriedly set the glass down, preparing to leave for her room.  
  
Bulma reached out, firmly holding her hand. "It's OK. I'm enjoying your company. You stay right here."  
  
Bea's soft blue eyes lowered. "I'm so sorry. I don't want you to think that I'm -- "  
  
Bulma touched her face and smiled before taking another sip of wine. "That you're pining away for _this_ prince of all Saiyans? Meh."  
  
Appearing bemused, Bea leaned back. "Meh? What does that mean?"  
  
"Big Trunks told me how careful you were with telling him about Vegeta's early days -- and his father's attitude. Hell, I don't know if I could have pulled that feat off like you did."  
  
"Yeah, well, we know both of our sons are hard-headed," Bea grunted, looking into her glass. "When I first built the time machine, I realized a more significant time-space shift might happen. I hoped that it wouldn't, but what did happen wasn't too bad, I suppose. I also took a wild guess and expected that your Vegeta probably wouldn't have been drastically different from the man I knew."  
  
Bulma's curious eyebrow lifted with an elegant curve. "So…"  
  
Bea was just as much of a scamp as the woman sitting next to her. Their respective grins broadened. Answering that question had many interesting layers, but she ultimately chose a more modest reply.  
  
"Knowing what I know now -- and seeing it up close -- their personalities have noticeable differences, but not a ton. Trunks was so _excited_ about meeting him back then. How could he not be, I guess? He was seventeen and had endured so much, including worrying about me. But the tough time they had at first made them stronger, I think. "  
  
"Of course it did," Bulma replied, raising her glass for a much-needed toast. "We're all still alive, and we have both you and Trunks to thank for that."  
  
Bea lifted her glass overhead. "I think that goes both ways."  
  
"I'm not going to fight you on that opinion." Bulma corked the bottle, placing her chin on top as Bea finished drinking. "You up for a walk? It might help you sleep better."  
  
"Sure. I'm not worn out yet, and I see you like tramping around in sod as much as I do."  
  
"Oh yeah," Bulma said with enthusiasm, "especially at this time of day. Let me get some iced coffee before we go. I'll get decaf for you."  
  
Bea frowned, flipping her hair. "I really don't think I can take anymore decaf."  
  
Bulma returned the protest with her own concerned glare. "Nothing doing, hon. You heard what the doctors said. You just can't have some stuff right now, caffeine and lots of tannins included."  
  
"If I can have one glass of wine, as we've done here, surely I can consume a tiny cup of espresso."  
  
" _No_ , Bea, and don't go thinking about sneaking any either. Access to all coffee machines and capsules here and in our lab is tamper proof. Whatever you do outside of our home, however, is your choice. I'm not tracking your three trips already to Barely Naked Coffee since you've been here … and counting."  
  
Bea blushed, covering her face. Her cover had been blown. "Damn it! Who tattled on me?"  
  
"Who do you think?" Bulma asked. "You can guess while I help you get up."  
  
"Your kid, maybe?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
Bea's eyes widened as her rosy cheeks turned an even deeper pink. "Oh don't tell me that man's been _stalking_ me! I mean, really? I guess I _shouldn't have_ worried about him then!"  
  
Laughing, Bulma clapped her hands. "I'm glad you _never_ noticed Vegeta flying overhead when the car takes you to the downtown research center. After your third coffeehouse adventure he blabbed to me, mostly to avoid taking matters into his own hands. So then, swear to me you'll stop this bad behavior before my husband's hair turns silver from frustration. I'll find a more satisfying beverage for you. I promise."  
  
"Oh all right," Bea pouted, locking arms with Bulma's. "I promise, though more silver might look nice on Vegeta, you know."  
  
"Rawr!" Baring her teeth like a hungry caracal, Bulma flexed her fingers. "I like how you think, woman, but he is still rather vain."   
  
  


* * *

  
Breathtaking emerald-green hills, vales and plains stretched for miles beyond a bucolic cluster of thatched-roofed cottages where the women strode together. The scene almost appeared like something out of a children's fairytale or from a brooding romantic's journal. Bulma eventually set her sights on the village's outskirts to continue their voyage, though she kept a watchful eye on Bea's physical condition. She stopped her hover car on the side of a quiet road so they could continue their foot travel. They entered a field covered in wildflowers bouncing and swaying in the breeze. Both sported tan culotte trousers. Bulma wore a V-neck white cotton tank top and gold necklace, while Bea donned a gray linen boyfriend shirt and floppy hat.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
Bea put her hand on Bulma's shoulder to catch her breath. "I'll be OK for a while longer. Don't you worry, doctor. Being out here is heavenly. I could be buried in this place."   
  
"Well, there will be no talk of burials today, young lady!" Bulma shouted, standing with her arms akimbo. "No ma'am."  
  
Bea looked into her eyes. "Actually, yes, we should discuss it, Bulma. Now is as good a time as any other."  
  
Bulma's shiny grin faded as she removed her sunglasses. "Don't start with me. I promised Big Trunks we'd do everything possible to help. Our technology is ---"  
  
"Imperfect, as we are still human -- not half-Saiyans who might even outlive their own fathers."  
  
Bulma crossed her arms. "Rubbish. Our society has cured numerous diseases and their variations, mapped genetic coding from almost every _known_ organism's genome, used tools to regrow nerve cells _,_ restored eyesight _,_ and increased the speed of basic and advanced learning. I could go on."   
  
"Sure you could, but I'm a scientist too," Bea replied with a wink. "Within our realm of knowledge and understanding, you know better than to believe in absolute certainty. Think about those you've spent your life around. Have you not considered that a deeper level of spirituality is just as important? It can bring comfort, helping you reject the notion that _everything_ must be controlled -- or can be. You and Vegeta still struggle with that part of life, I suspect."  
  
"We're married for a reason," Bulma exhaled, glancing at the clouds. "Look, this isn't why we came out here. I wanted you to enjoy yourself. I've heard you crying at night sometimes."  
  
Bea held her hand. "We all live on borrowed time in many ways, and I _am_ enjoying myself. I also have to be in touch with my feelings in order for that to happen. I apologize for worrying you. I've just been thinking a lot about…about…"  
  
Feeling tightness in her chest, she swallowed. Her eyes closed as breathing gradually became more difficult. Bulma's troubled facial expression registered between "damn it" and "god damn it" as the pace of the woman's wheezing accelerated.   
  
"Let's take a break, lady," she suggested, removing Bea's hat. "You made your point. We're in no rush."  
  
"I'm…I'm fine," Bea insisted. "Just give me, whew, give me a…a minute."  
  
Bulma calmly whipped out an inhaler, shaking it vigorously. "Here, hon. Inhale. Once. Twice. OK, now hold it and count to ten." She looked at her watch, keeping time. "Now breathe out slowly. That's right. Great job. This new medicine is more potent, so you'll be sleepier after using it until your body adjusts."  
  
Bea touched her chest as she exhaled. "My goodness! I'm already feeling that effect."  
  
"Good." Bulma's arms draped around Bea's shoulders, hugging her tight. "You stay quiet. I'll get us back soon so you can rest."  
  
"Do you dote on everyone you care for like this now, doctor?"  
  
Bulma smiled. "How often do you get hugs like this -- other than from Trunks, and now my own brat whom you've enchanted? Let's go, sister."   
  
Bea took to her bed upstairs not long after their return to the estate. Bulma expected her to sleep for a couple hours before having dinner. Spending time with her felt like having another sister. Her own sister, Tights, hadn't returned to Earth in three years to visit with family. Bulma missed her terribly.   
  
The evening's wind-song whistled a slower, softer melody. Bulma put on a hooded jacket, heading for the storage shed. She dropped her burlap bag near the building's rear door, waiting for her husband to show himself. Vegeta walked from behind an old oak tree. Bulma unpinned her hair as he approached with his hands in his pockets.  
  
"You're upset."  
  
"I am _not_ , Vegeta."  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Oh, don't be like that. I'm not up for an argument."  
  
He held out his hand for them to walk together after they kissed. "I don't believe Bea _would be_ pleased to hear you tell white lies about yourself."  
  
"I'm all right," Bulma replied with a shrug. "Let's change the subject. How are you, sexy?"  
  
Vegeta picked her up, putting her on his back to fly. "Is that an invitation to roll in the hay tonight?"  
  
"Don't tempt me, you jerk, when we both know you have no intention of staying long enough for me to even give you a decent blow job."  
  
"Keep up those smart comments and you might find yourself splattered on one of those cottages down there," Vegeta warned with a smirk. "You're a bit heavier too. Lay off the goose-fat fries for a while."  
  
Laughing, Bulma yanked his hair. "You knave! How dare you insult these voluptuous hips that gave you your first-born heir!"  
  
Vegeta kept their flight short. He had accomplished his goal of lifting his wife's spirits -- and his own. They landed on a humpbacked bridge over a river not far from the village. Tall cast-iron gas lamps lit both sides of the structure. Vegeta brushed her cheek with his thumb after they stopped in the middle, watching his wife's eyes. Bulma's hand laid over his, hoping to relieve his concern.  
  
"She had an episode while we were out today. I think something I said upset her. But overall, scenery change and my companionship have been good for her."  
  
Vegeta brought Bulma close to his chest, recalling everything he planned to say before seeing her. He expected to be eloquent and measured, even, to make his arguments more persuasive. He was adept at delivering the hardest of truths because life never spared him from them. Yet in his heart, doing this with his wife would never be easy. Her warm eyes and sunny smile embodied hope, which kept the embers of desire and drive and confidence lit inside of him. Hope defined her. They were both flawed individuals, but Vegeta knew he had more than a precious gem in her. She was a good woman.  
  
"Look, I know you don't want to hear this, but you must be prepared if things don't work out, because you better believe that Bea is."   
  
"Vegeta --"  
  
"No, Bulma. We agreed for me leave for a while so she could process her feelings, but I realize now how much you need this too. You cannot save everyone, and if you were in Bea's shoes, I'm sure you wouldn't want to be pitied either."  
  
"I'm not pitying her."  
  
"You are. You treat that woman the way _you_ would want to be treated. Understand me?"  
  
Bulma didn't reply. Instead, she headed for the other side of the bridge, with Vegeta slowly following until she stopped. He held her from behind as the solar system's new moon made its entrance.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Yes, what?"  
  
"Yes, I understand, Vegeta. Tell me something, though."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Since she's been here, how has this made you feel? Can you put words to it?"  
  
"I can." Vegeta kissed the space beneath her right ear, thinking about their years together. "I… am… humbled by you both."  
  
Moved by his response, Bulma turned around with tears in her eyes. Even during their most intimate moments he had never said anything like this -- and their subsequent embrace felt like their first time together all over again.   


* * *

  
Vegeta dropped Bulma off on the cobblestone path leading to the estate's front entrance. She stood on her tiptoes waving goodbye as her husband's soaring body became one of the evening's boldest stars. A tall, blonde-haired woman wearing black straight-leg pants and a white ruffle-front blouse greeted her.   
  
"How was your outing this evening, madam?"  
  
"Hello, Madeleine. It's so lovely out there. I can see why you never want to leave the village."  
  
"I enjoy being caretaker here," the young woman replied happily. "I tend to animals and lovely gardens all day while you get to -- uh, I guess, create new life forms for us to use exclusively?"  
  
Bulma laughed. "It all depends on the life form. As a scientist, I generally try to avoid engaging in unethical and highly dangerous behavior that could get us all murdered or brainwashed in our sleep. Anyway, I appreciate you stepping in for me to check on Bea."  
  
Madeleine picked up an apron as they entered the kitchen together. "Oh, it's no problem at all. She is very sweet-natured. It's amazing how much your father's younger sister and you look so much alike."  
  
Bulma poured a glass of water. Her husband had more distaste for lying out of necessity than she at times, but they had to stick with this one.  
  
"Uh, yes -- well, how is my…aunt?"  
  
"She enjoyed the chowder and _loved_ the freshly baked baps I made. I wished for her to eat more, but she refused after the first serving. Cancer is a devious thief of bodily strength, ya know."  
  
Bulma looked up. "She told you she has cancer?"  
  
Realizing her mistake, Madeleine covered her mouth. "Oh, please forgive me, Doctor Brief! I didn't mean to be so forward. It's just --"  
  
Bulma handed her a towel for them to clean dishes together. "It's all right, but I expect you to keep that knowledge to yourself. I'm trying to help relieve her stress."  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Also, Miss Bea didn't tell me. It's just that… that when you've cared for someone who had the disease, as my dad did with my grandmother, then you never forget what it looks like."  
  
Feeling maternal, Bulma put her arm around the woman's shoulder. "Oh, dear, I'm so very sorry. When did this happen? You know I would have helped."  
  
"Stubborn little thing my Nana was," Madeleine replied sadly. "She didn't _want_ to be helped. Had she sought treatment, she would have outlived us, I believe. But she didn't want too long of a life, she said, muttering about wanting to return as a house cat. I still get angry sometimes, but I'm not your concern right now. Go see that sweet spitfire of yours now. I'm going to spend the night with my da."  
  
Bulma finally accepted that it was time to slow down for the evening after Madeleine departed. She made a small pot of chamomile tea to share with Bea, blowing on two steaming cups as she entered the bedroom. Bea, who had been drawing in a sketchbook, removed her glasses and smiled.  
  
"So chamomile is the substitute for fresh coffee? I feel so…fortunate."  
  
"Would you prefer a sewer-water nightcap instead?" Bulma wisecracked, setting the tray down. "I can make that happen quickly. Seriously, though, I apologize for not dining with you earlier, but ---"  
  
"But you have a life and need some time to yourself."  
  
"That's not what I was going to say, Bea."  
  
"No, but it's what _I feel_. Bulma. I want for nothing. I'm telling you not to forget yourself in all of this, similar to what I've told Trunks."  
  
Bulma sat on the bedside, holding a cup in both hands. "What are you drawing?"   
  
"My other son."  
  
"Your other son?"  
  
"Yes. I want you to see him."  
  
Bulma blinked as Bea reopened the drawing book and pushed it into her hands. She looked at the older woman, holding her arm as heartfelt emotion welled inside of her. Bea's charcoal-pencil sketch of Gohan as an adult, from her own universe, was stunning. His face was both handsome and pensive, yet also weary. His impeccably fit body was in state of preparation, but also scarred. He stood tall on a cliff overlooking the place of his birth, where both women first met his father, Son Goku.  
  
His left arm was missing.   
  
"You've obviously been working on this for a while. It's beautiful."  
  
Bea's eyes hollowed as her soul's ghosts prepared to be purged. She patted Bulma's arm as they both cried in silence.   
  
"He was _just as much_ my son as Trunks. First he lost his arm protecting my baby from those pieces of shit cyborgs. Then he lost his life to do it again. Trunks was inconsolable the day Gohan was murdered, despite having ascended to Super Saiyan. I had to keep it together, but afterward, without Trunks in my presence, I screamed and screamed and screamed myself hoarse."  
  
"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Bea."  
  
"We couldn't even bury Gohan properly, which hurt the most. Only Goku had a proper burial, after that heart virus killed him, when Trunks was a baby. Everyone who fought the cyborgs later on didn't, including Vegeta."  
  
Bulma exhaled, holding Bea's hand. "You were so brave send Trunks to find us, not knowing if he'd ever return."  
  
"I didn't know if either of us could take much more devastation, but I started building the time machine a week after Gohan's death. It was our hope, and as Trunks got older, he took on more of his father's tenacity. We prepared each other for the risk that he wouldn't return, but I had to believe he would."  
  
Bulma poured more tea, handing it to her. "You've never had a chance to share like this, other than with Trunks."

"Not like this. I couldn't burden him with my hurt. I'm lucky I've that made it to an older age. I still have more work to do. Maybe I can help my son with his new Galactic Patrol duties, now that he's committed himself to staying in this universe."  
  
"I'm so glad to hear you say that. I thought you were --"  
  
Bea smiled. "Preparing to give up on living? Not at all, but I have no fear if death comes earlier for me."  
  
Bulma placed a pillow behind her head. "I know. I'm glad you were able to lean on me, though. We both need sleep. Anything else you need before I get out of here?"  
  
Bea's gaze shifted toward the stars outside, reminding her of the terrible night after the man she loved had died. The evening's beauty made the loss more bittersweet. She hadn't idealized him then. His outer shell was hard, and they had been separated. Yet he made an effort to find her the day before. His voice lacked the typical pre-battle bombast and effrontry. Bea stood with her arms folded until he tossed her a piece of jewelry she'd never seen -- a pendant engraved with the Saiyan royal crest. "Don't lose it," he said before departing. That was as much of a goodbye as either could stand.  
  
"After settling down with Vegeta, how long did it take for you to make peace with knowing that he could be taken from you forever -- and maybe never be seen again by you -- because of who he is?"  
  
Bulma held the doorknob, closing her eyes as she recalled Vegeta's many battles, including with himself. "I do not expect absolute peace _precisely_ because of _who he is_. Like you have done with Trunks, I stay hopeful that my husband will return each time he leaves, and I do everything in my power as a scientist and wife to ensure that happens. Now you get some rest, OK?"  
  
"I will. Thank you." 

* * *

  
Two months later, Bea was living in her own home. Visitors came and went bringing food and conversation as her recuperation continued. Tragedy had denied her the joy of seeing childhood friends mature and enjoy their lives, but now she could experience that happiness with them in this new reality.  
  
She and Bulma communicated almost daily, sharing countless ideas about engineering or new products sold by Capsule Corporation. She read voraciously and was definitely itching to crawl under a piece of machinery in the future. On this day, she had been dozing with a book on her chest. Several doorbell rings finally roused her. She wasn't expecting guests, though she didn't bother checking the security camera to see. Instead, she pressed a button to inform the person she was on her way. Her medical treatments impaired her ability to get around as quickly, but that didn't bother her much.  
  
She opened the door and moved back, inviting the person inside. "So what brings you out here today?"  
  
"It's lunchtime. I don’t --"  
  
"You don't train between noon and two p.m. Yes, I know, your highness."  
  
Vegeta's half-smirk never failed to entertain Bea. He immediately took her arm to help her walk, noticing his namesake's pendant. Bea forgot that she was wearing the necklace, and he wouldn't dare ask about it. Seeing it served to remind him how fortunate he and his wife truly were.  
  
"I see," he replied, raising his chest a little. "So it was like that for him too?"  
  
"Oh, not every day. He did mix up his schedule --- when he wasn't bugging _the hell_ out of me."  
  
"That sounds unfortunate. Bulma and I never had that problem."  
  
Bea laughed. "Ha! _Sure you didn't._ You're stinking up my house with that crock of bullshit, buddy."  
  
"A Saiyan prince does not lie!" Vegeta bellowed. "I also didn't come here to be insulted, woman. If you find my presence so distasteful, then I'll take the strawberries I brought here back to my wife."  
  
"Strawberries?" Bea's cheeks rose, delivering the wide smile Vegeta anticipated. "Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  


* * *

**Thank you for giving this a read. Comments are invited.**


End file.
